


You Are Enough

by DaintyDuck_99



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, Nico also accidentally demolishes a picnic (there is humor to buoy the angst), Nico compares Will to an ox and a tsunami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaintyDuck_99/pseuds/DaintyDuck_99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico teeters the knife's edge of rationality when he unleashes the hard, obsidian persona of The Ghost King. A shred of that specter is constantly, minutely, searching for Bianca. It's a dangerous, irrational game, a masochistic merry-go-round of hurt at the heart of old wounds. Things come to a head when he chases a glimpse of her likeness, and he has to choose between smothering that last shred of delirious hope, or feeding it, allowing his recent friendships to wither in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are Enough

He's up to his eyebrows in the deadly inertia of celestial bronze against obsidian, answering it with bursts of adrenaline punctuated by the thrill and wholly immersed in this potentially deadly debate, when a glimpse of her (a fresco on the walls of his skull, faithfully preserved years ago, now walking freely) propels all of his wits in a completely new direction. Dropping his sword and twisting beneath one bemused Son of Jupiter, Nico scrambles out of the arena and tears through what may have been a picnic organized by Demeter's children (flecks of potato salad are lost in the friction of his jeans), viciously pumping his legs, chasing after his thoughts. 

After her. Someone else is crashing after him, making enough noise to banish the shadows, and he curses, straining to run faster, wishing that the bane of his existence (the brainless golden ox behind him) wouldn't limit the amount of shadow-travel he could get away with in a week (unfortunately, his father had actually concurred with the 'doctor's orders', and forced him to pick the lint-like soul residue out of Charon's suits if he didn't comply). He wishes that it were almost anyone else chasing him-- they'd give up eventually. 

Even her. She had loved to run, regardless of whether or not he could keep up, and she despised ever having to keep after him for too long. She loved the opportunity, the ability to assert her body over the earth and the raw power of forgetting her stormy beginnings and becoming anything. 

How many times as a child had he staggered behind, envisioning her braid lengthening like a banner he could latch on to, a symbol of solidarity? He transformed her into a goddess who could wisk both of them away. He'd even considered making her a Mythomagic card-- an offering on the altar of childlike hope-- but she had scoffed at the idea. How would she recognize him now, without a smile and a stack of impatience and a troop of those damn cards in his hand?

As the Big House grows in his sights, so do the sounds of his determined follower, and before he can clear the steps a wave of tawny limbs is crashing over him, pulling him under. The golden tsunami who has him effectively pinned is utterly ablaze, warmer than a molten forge, practically, and Nico doesn't have time to be noticing the dimple stapled near the corner of his mouth or the slightly concerned set of his azure eyes or how much he wants to kiss the daylights out of the son of a bitch.

Before he can tell Will to piss off or summon a horde of skeletons (to strike the fear of emptiness into his core, show him the nothingness that could devour the white spot where his soul is), a large hand is yanking Nico to his feet. He blinks in surprise, skin still humming where it had collided with Will's, zinging like arrows with no destination: NOT Will, not now. 

"Gee, Atlanta," Will quirks an eyebrow at him, an idiosyncrasy of his own that Will claims to have perfected, "you're determined to get the hell out of dodge. What's lit a fire under your ass?" Nico bristles (or is he quivering?). "The only fireball that's gravitated dangerously close to me today is you," he spits. Will huffs like a disappointed maiden in one of those fantasy shows that Jason coerces him into watching. For once, Will doesn't crack a joke or weild his 'doctor complex'. "Fine, I guess your business is none of mine. I just care about you, you know?" Now he's sagging like a dilipated temple, and fuck, Nico is bone-tired of pushing him away, he's in a hurry anyhow and damn the consequences--

"You're my friend, and if you're hurting, I-" with a squawk, eyes flaring like geysers , Will is cut short as Nico finds purchase at the neck of his shirt and yanks him down, mashing their lips together and it's like a dam bursting, all of the sexual tension they've garnered flows into the texture of the kiss, and with a giddy laugh Nico breaks free, almost playfully, and he's running again, up the steps, heels drumming in tandem with the determined, sun-struck ox behind him. 

Nico consumes the conference room with wild eyes, but the Roman delegate does not flinch. Chiron is savvy enough to feign sleep (no one smacks their lips that much when they snore). Not her, though. Not the one with the braid. The small part of him that will always be searching for Bianca is smothered, quenching the fire in his eyes. He is struck by the resemblance that exists between her and Reyna at a fleeting glance, the same chocolate bordering on black hair, braided, tan skin and curt movements. But Reyna is meticulous where Bianca was messy. 

She will never be Bianca anymore than Hazel will, but they're more than enough, he thinks. Reyna envelopes him in an iron cage hug. "Have you seen the ambassador of Pluto?" She quips. "I'm starting to miss his grumpy demeanor, barbed with common sense," she mumbles against the top of his head, because dammit, even she is taller than him. Will Solace, uncharacteristically silent, has a smile that is a sliver of the sun. Nico's glad to have Reyna for support when those sunbeams melt his muscles like butter, and the tide of the kiss sweeps through him once more. 

She grimaces at Will as Nico sags against her, ever protective as Jason, inquiring, "What did you do to him?" Will smirks, probably ready to snark about the birds and the bees, and Nico groans at the prospect of how often this first meeting will be recounted in the next twenty years.


End file.
